Kitchen Witch

20 | Unravelling

Charlotte took her time the following morning, lingering indulgently in bed. The bedside window was open as usual, and the chickadees were calling out 'cheeseburger.' The breeze blowing into the bedroom held the fresh, clean dirt smell that signified spring, with a taste of brine. The tide was likely out. She had come to learn that the low tide had more of a briny smell with all of the seaweed exposed. It reminded her of Riley; it was as if the ocean clung to him; she sighed, remembering how much more intense the smell was when he pulled her in close. Charlotte squealed and kicked her covers off, slapping the side of her bed. Charlie raised his slumbering head and looked at her with a mixture of concern and annoyance. Charlotte giggled to herself and rolled over, squeezing her pillow tight, and placed her face into its soft white cover and screamed. When she felt she had sufficiently managed to collect herself, she rolled back over onto her back and stretched out while replaying the evening in her mind. The entire night had been a blur of conversation, light-hearted, effortless conversation as if they had been friends forever. Then, when the music started and they began to dance, she had never felt so free in her life. He looked just as happy, almost a different man, not a frown line to be seen. The night flew by, and she remembered feeling so disappointed when the band began to pack up, and the crowd dispersed. But then he took her hand and walked her to the car; she couldn't remember ever having felt so taken care of, such a simple gesture but one that was so pure. No ulterior motive, just wanting to see her to her car. Then there was the kiss; she curled and uncurled her toes; it hadn't just been a kiss on the cheek. No, it had been so much more than that; she could feel the heat building in her body again; if it hadn't been for the sounds of nearby cars breaking the spell, she wasn't sure where the night may have headed. She was both relieved and disappointed at the same time. She sat up and reached for her phone on the bedside table. He wasn't on any of the socials so that she couldn't stalk his profile. She smiled at the thought of him posting an Instagram shot of his boat. Yeah, definitely not his style. She did have his number from when he had worked on the sink. Should she call him and thank him for a lovely evening? She groaned audibly, once again disturbing the slumbering Charlie. "What am I doing, Charlie?" Once again, he looked at her with annoyance as if telling her to get her act together. She decided to do just that, with a long list of work to do in the apothecary. As she made her way to the kitchen, she made a deal with herself: if she accomplished all that she needed and dropped off the new supplies for Sarah, she could swing by his boat just as he would be coming in. But first, a cup of tea, with perhaps just a little extra rosemary and ginseng to help her get through her list.

Charlotte was in her element, working away in her little apothecary, the windows open and the late morning air blowing in. She was dressed in a green flowy tunic and matching wide-legged linen pants. It was a pale, soft green colour that brought out the magical red in her hair and highlighted her eyes. Yet it was soft and feminine in shade. She was amazed at how much better she felt in loose, flowy clothing than squeezed and contained in leggings and bodysuits. There was still a definition to the top in the way that it was cut. It emphasized her curves and allowed her to move with fluid freedom. She had on one of her favourite aprons, made of white canvas-like material, with pretty romantic ruffles and the essential number of pockets to hold an ever-growing collection of random but essential bits and bobs. Like shells, red sand, Charlie's milk bones, scissors, dried leaves, and string. She reached into one of the many pockets, pulled out a milk bone for Charlie, and tossed it to him on his bed. He had a big, comfy dog bed set up in the corner of the workspace, her constant companion. She had the radio set to a local station, enjoying the country music and weather updates. The crockpot was turned on low, and a big batch of beeswax was set to melt. The workbench was covered with glass jars arranged neatly in rows. A song by Lennie Gallant was playing on the radio, one that they had played the night before at the ceilidh, and Charlotte began to hum along to the radio. She had loved the feeling of dancing the night before. Not concerned with how she looked or behaved. She had just been in the moment, enjoying the company of her friends. Her heart squeezed at the thought of friends. Feeling momentarily guilty again for not having done a better job at staying in touch with the girls back in Stonebridge. She still hadn't heard from Maratha. As she prepared a batch of herbs for her jars, she thought of how, even though she had her little group of friends back in Stonebridge, she still felt on edge, like she was hiding part of herself. She was always on guard, playing a role, carving out moments where she could breathe. Maratha had been a big part of helping her find that space, but it had always felt tenuous. Whereas last night, she felt free, unrestrained and in the moment. That feeling of being content in the moment felt like such a treasure.